


Winter Wonderland

by WhumpTown



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Malcolm Bright, Hurt/Comfort, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Summary: Shameless Malcolm whump
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Colette Swanson, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Winter Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> Colette gets a lot of shit and I refuse to hate her until she gives me a reason and hating Malcolm isn't enough. Her feelings are just as valid as his mental illnesses.

The snow falls in a spiral, catching in her dark hair. It doesn’t melt, the frigid air keeping each flake in its unique shape. They cover her shoulders, coat her in their thick layers. The wave of cold is like a weighted blanket, pulling her shoulders down, making her haggard and slow. Ten minutes. She has not seen Malcolm in ten minutes. A lot can happen in ten minutes. The shot she heard ring out, the screams… Her ears ring from the brutal assault she faced three minutes ago, in a shoot out that Malcolm was not present for. 

“Fuck!” She’s got a mouthful of snow, her body absolutely freezing. There is a branch under her chest, poking her ribs in a way that should hurt but the cold is numbing. She can feel the outline of the limb but she can’t feel the pain. Slowly, she pulls her knees underneath her. Her cold fingers brush away the snow from the stick that had been underneath her. It was a limb, a human limb.

She repeats her earlier reaction, the curse louder and clearer. Not muffled by the snow. She swipes the snow away and instead of finding warm skin on the wrist she uncovers… she finds cold, nearly blue, fingers peeking out from beneath a peacoat sleeve. 

Malcolm.  
\----------  
JT looks away from Gil and Colette’s argument, shaking his head as he chugs the rest of the cooled coffee in his cup. He twists a grimace, the cool coffee too sweet. The day is not going well. Gil and Colette are not helping either, their argument forming a cluster of pain in his head. Peeling himself from the faux leather chairs, he doesn’t even look back as he leaves to get another cup of coffee. Hopefully, he’ll have to wait for a new batch to brew.

“Don’t,” JT grumbles his warning. He doesn’t even look at Dani or Malcolm but he knows both their mouths are open as they attempt to ask him about what it is, exactly, that Gil and Colette are still arguing about. Them. That’s the answer. Colette doesn’t think Gil should continue enabling the odd relationship blossoming between Dani and Malcolm. It’s a hindrance, something that could quickly become dangerous, Colette feels. It’s innocent, a friendship of proximity, Gil argues. They’re both blinded by their bias' and JT is exhausted. “Please, just let me get my coffee.”

They do. Worried eyes shared between the two of them.

Two more hours. JT suffers through two more hours before Colette gives in to Gil’s idea. “Fine,” she grits, seeing that the only way this will end is if she relents. “Okay,” she sighs,” I’ll take Malcolm.” Gil tilts his head, waiting for her to finish. For her to fully agree to a perfectly acceptable compromise. “I’ll give him a chance,” she relents. A second chance.

They leave the room, JT their “mediator” remains in his chair. He slumps forward, letting his head bounce on the table and sighing deeply. His shoulders relax and he closes his eyes. His ‘new’ cup of coffee is cold now and he’s not moving to drink or refill it. He’s going to take a fucking nap.  
\----------  
“Be careful.”

Colette frowns, her eyebrows dipping. Malcolm, however, rolls his eyes and tells Gil not to worry. Brushing off any idea that sending Malcolm and Colette out together would end in them in any way but fine. She’s not surprised to seem him brush them off. Their concerns important but he’s not concerned. How many times had she seen him do that very thing in the academy?

Disregard his safety, an instructor’s wise words, or power through feelings better off unvoiced. 

Dani’s glance says it all. “ _He’s my friend._ ” Except, Colette wishes she could scream the same back. He _used_ to be her friend too! She loved him, cherished his company as they poured over academy notes and wrestled for the benefit of their classes. They did everything together, scheduled classes and quizzed one another. But… he glowed in a way she only shimmered. 

“The suspect,” Malcolm says, pointing down at the picture clipped to the manilla folder in his lap. “He looks exactly like-”

“Welch,” she finishes, glancing over at him and they share a laugh. Welch was an instructor they had at the academy, middle-aged and a little heavy set. Welch was an asshole but he was funny, in that way mediocre white men sometimes are. “He looks exactly like Welch.”

Malcolm lets out a deep laugh, his arm across his chest. He still tilts his head back when he laughs, Colette notices. The same way he used to when they were twenty-five-year-olds wiggling their way up the political ladder. “Thank God,” Malcolm mumbles, shaking his head and closing the folder. “I thought I was-” he lets out a deep laugh,” crazy.” 

Their laughter dies down, swallowed by the awkward silence. They look on, Colette’s eyes focused on the road ahead while Malcolm’s are cast to the window. He watches as they descend deeper and deeper into the woods. Safety, he realizes, is slowly thrown out the window as they go descend into the all-encompassing white. 

“Just,” Colette, looks at Malcolm as they stand a stone toss from the house of their “Welch”. She glances him down, unsure of how to be his partner when he’s not an agent. He has no gun. His vest has the letters NYPD on it not FBI like hers. “Stay behind me, okay?” 

Everything goes to shit.

“The profile was wrong!” His voice drips guilt, frustration. Static follows as his voice and breath are cut off, his attention split from updating her on his current position. She doesn’t hear back from him. His radio falls silent, he’s gone. No footsteps in the snow pouring around them, the wind whipping her coat around her body, and the danger still high in the air. She can’t hunt him down while “Welch” hunts her.

The profile was wrong.

“Put it down!” She yells, her gun trembling while Welch’s remains steady. He’s not afraid to die and she wonders if that will be any consolation to Malcolm later. His profile wasn’t completely wrong. “I will sh-” she pulls the trigger, effectively stopping Welch’s dead sprint. It was so sudden, Welch going from a frozen dark figure in the snow to running straight at her. The sound echo in her ears. 

He’s dead. 

Malcolm’s gone.

Any footsteps she could follow are covered by a fresh wave of snow. Everything is covered in snow. She can’t see a thing.

“Fuck!” She’s got a mouthful of snow and the trees feel mocking as they peer over her.

“Fuck!” 

She’s found Malcolm.

“Come on,” she urges, throwing snow off of Malcolm as quickly as she can. It flies up in a hail and comes down thickly with the downpour. “Bright!” Her heart pounds in her chest, her throat tight with unease. “Come on you stubborn son of a bitch!” Finally, she sees chestnut brown hair peeking through the snow. He’s soaked to the bone, rigid in her arms. She hauls him from his prone position until he’s in her lap. The two of them covered in snow. 

She brushes the snow from his face, clearing it away from his nose and mouth. Waiting, pleading as his chest remains still. She puts a hand against his chest, nothing. Pulling his peacoat away from his body, ripping buttons around them she presses a hand to his bare chest. Faint. Hardly conceivable, a heart beats under the warm pads of her fingertips. “Oh, God!” Tears prick her eyes,” Fuck!” She leans over him, defeat sinking in and making her exhausted. It’s too much. Everything. All of this hatred, missing him.

“C-Colette?” 

She sniffles and sits back up. Cloudy, tired blue eyes look back at her. A sliver of color in the white blanket around them. “You’re okay, Malcolm.” It’s the first time she’s used his first name in… years. It feels unnatural and that’s her fault. “You’re gonna be fine.”

He shakes his head, slow and uncoordinated. He lets out a hoarse cough, chest heaving. “P-Please don’t make me go,” Malcolm jerks in her arms, eyes scanning but not seeing a thing. If his movements are meant to pull away from her, they’re not concrete, not forceful. He’s weak, _unable_ to pull his body away from her. She pins his arms to his chest, knowing that the closer his limbs stay to his body the warmer he will be. The stronger he will become. 

She pulls him against her own chest. His freezing skin against her. “You can stay, you can stay as long as you like.” Her reason is lost. He keeps moving but gets nowhere.

His teeth chatter. “But I-I love-love it here. Please-Please don’t make me go.” He pleads with her silence. The tears threatening to spill down her face. “Don’t make me go.” Softly, his strength waning, “I-I love it here.”

She looks away as a tear falls down her cheek.

“I love it here.”

She lays him back on the frozen ground, forcing her numb limbs underneath her. She sobs, hot tears stinging her face as they fall. She screams, gut-wrenching until her voice breaks. “Alright,” she whispers to the silence around her. “I can do this.” She collects a handful of Malcolm’s coat and pulls. He slides an inch, maybe less. “Come on!” She pulls again and she lands on her ass, hard. She stands back up, her body hurting. She doesn’t stop. She can’t feel her toes, her face no longer burns, but they’re gaining ground. She can see the faint grey of their buried black car. 

They’ll blame her. She pulls Malcolm to the tire, sitting him up so he can lean against it. Her fingers hurt as she swipes the snow away from the car, struggling to wrap them around the door handle. “Gil!” She trembles as a harsh wind blows past them. “We were wrong!” It’s her fault. They were wrong and it’s her fault.

She’s crying. The tears numb on her cheeks, she keeps the phone pressed to her face. She can’t find the keys. “I can’t find the-” she shouts in frustration, falling to the ground. “We were wrong, Gil.” She sobs into the phone, none of his rushed, panicked questions meaning anything to her. “Both of us,” she sobs, glancing over at Malcolm’s limp form. “How did we get the profile so wrong?” 

“Alright,” Gil says, his voice a breeze of warmth. “Colette, I need you to tell me where you are. Where’s Malcolm?”

Colette wipes her face with her sleeve,” we’re at the car.”

“Okay,” Gil sighs. “Okay, we’re on our way. Are you guys okay?”

She shakes her head,” no. It’s cold.”

“But are you okay? Is anyone hurt?”

Colette’s head is killing her. Probably from falling she realizes. “I-I’m not sure.” She doesn’t think Malcolm’s bleeding but she hadn’t looked. There wasn’t time. She could have stopped though. Let her training take over but she hadn’t done that either. 

Lights. 

She can see the lights.

\----------

“Here.” Colette blinks and there’s a shock blanket around her shoulders, a blood pressure cuff around her arm. The paramedic is gentle as he removes it, moving the blanket around her shoulders better. “You should go to the hospital, get checked-”

“No,” she whispers, she wants to go home.

“Ma’am, you could have-”

“She said she’s fine,” Dani comes out of nowhere. Her winter coat pulled snug around her. Colette wishes for her jacket. “We’ll sign the papers, just leave her be.” The paramedic sighs but backs away. Dani nods her head to Colette, turning to walk away. Suddenly, she turns back around, looking at Colette long and hard.  
Colette is expecting her to shout. To scream and accuse Colette of not caring. Of doing this on purpose. “Thank you,” Dani whispers, her eyes sincere. The place where Dani’s hand rest is heavy with warmth. It hurts. “He…” Dani smiles sadly, the corners of her mouth pulled down in thought. “Thank you, Colette. We really… He’s important to us.” 

Colette cries. She sobs uncontrollably, again. It’s been an awful day. She’s exhausted, covered in snow, and now she’s alone. She watches through tears as Dani climbs into the back of the ambulance, picking up Malcolm’s limp hand and offering it a little squeeze. She grins down at him, saying something Colette can’t hear but that makes Malcolm smile. JT finishes his small rant to the other EMT, letting the man climb into the back to and signaling their departure with a loud smack to the cab of the ambulance. 

“Let’s get you in the car.” Gil offers her his hand so she can step down from the gurney of the second ambulance. It’s warm. “You look exhausted.” He allows her to sink against him, leaning tiredly on his shoulder. They don’t hate her. Somehow, they might even trust her. She’ll go back to Virginia in a day or so and do the job she and Malcolm both signed up for. The one she always thought he was better at, the job that was easier for him. He was supposed to have it just handed to him. After all, he’s the white man with money. Instead, she has the job they both want and he was unfairly excused, unfairly treated. 

Maybe, this is what was supposed to happen. Their age-old argument of chance vs. fate. He always believed in chance but she is a firm believer in fate. She’d like to think fate brought him to New York, to people who treat him right. To a team not full of people like her. To a better life.


End file.
